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THE LIBRARY OF 
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COPY B. 


COPYRIGHT. 1903. by EDWARD QUINTARD 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 


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TO R. L. S. 


D ear poet far beyond the seas, 

The friend of children— their delight; 
Thou wert to many a fireside 
The joy which came on story night. 


Thy tenderness and love embraced 
All children of the human race, 

And many a heart beat true for thee 
Which knew thine own, but not thy face. 


May every little child who loves 
To know the deeds brave men have done, 
Remember, with a grateful heart, 

Good Robert Louis Stevenson I 


hi 


PRIVATELY PRINTED 

by 

CARROLL J. POST, Jr. 
New York 


CONTENTS. 


Dedication 

To the Baby ....... 9 

The Bottle Green Imp . . . . . .10 

The Wind and the Waves 12 

The Baby’s Ship . . • • • . 13 

An Ocean Lullaby . . . . . . 

The Island of Nod . . . . .16 

King Bumblebee ....... jy 

Little Crab Children 18 

A Question 1 9 

Baby Porpoises . 20 

Cloud Children ....... 2 1 

Lillies in the Garden ...... 22 

The Shadows ....... 23 

The Mother Seal’s Advice ..... 24 

The Baby Sea Urchins ..... 25 

The Farmer’s House ...... 2 6 

Bed Picnic 27 

The Little Rag Baby ..... 28 

The Teeter Snipe ...... 29 

The Pedler ........ 30 

The Baby Hippopotamus 32 

Counterpane Country . . 33 

The Lobster Ghost ..... 34 


The Nightmare 36 

The Man in the Moon 37 

Trinity Bells ........ 38 

A Song 40 

Little Boy Blue 4 1 

King Golden Rod ...... 42 

Rain 43 

Baby Tadpole ....... 44 

Thunder People ....... 45 

My Dog and I 4 6 

The Stars . 48 

Lullaby ........ 49 

The Organ Grinder . . . . . .50 

Supper Time ........ 52 

The Valley of Dreams . . . . . .53 

Fire People ....... 54 


A Summer Shower 
The Changing Shadows 
The Bridge 


The Wind 62 

Over the Hills and Far Away .... 64 

Lullaby 66 

The Sandman 67 

Aftermath 68 


TITLE PAGE and COVER DESIGN 
by 

EMILY SWIFT SPACEMAN 


POEMS 























































































































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TO THE BABY. 


Kere’s to the baby— 

■ /With her little nose, 
Pink cheeks and blue eyes, 
And ten tiny toes. 

When the wind is howling 
All around the house, 
Baby in her cradle 
Is cozy as a mouse. 


9 


THE BOTTLE-GREEN IMP. 


C here’s a strange little fellow who lives in the sea, 
Who is green from his head to the tip of his tail; 
He has five funny fingers, but cannot count three, 

And his cradle’s the wave that is rocked by the gale. 


His hair is dank seaweed; his ears are two shells; 

He scares all the fishes and tickles the shrimp, 

And he skips up and down on the sea-shore and yells, 
For he’s nobody’s baby— this Bottle-Green Imp. 


He worries the sea-gulls— gets into their nest — 

And when they’re not watching runs off with their eggs, 
Then screams when they call him an unwelcome guest, 
And then for revenge he pinches their legs. 


io 


He frightens the little crabs into a fit; 

(That’s why they are pop-eyed and never walk 
straight ;) 

Then sits down and laughs till he fears he may split, 
And has no regret for their pitiful fate. 


And whenever the Bottle-Green Imp wants a ride, 

He catches a porpoise and climbs on his back; 
Then, pulling his ears, makes him race with the tide, 
And whenever he stops he gives him a whack. 


O, the Bottle-Green Imp is a thing of the sea, 

And you’d better lookout when you’re walking the shore, 
For should he, perchance, ever meet you or me, 

His acquaintance, it might be quite well to ignore. 


THE WIND AND THE WAVES. 


C he wind came up on tiptoe 
And found the sea at rest, 
With all the little baby waves 
Asleep upon its breast. 


The naughty wind it whispered: 

“Come out with me and play,” 

But the big sea then made such a noise 
It scared the wind away. 


12 


THE BABY’S SHIP. 


C he baby’s ship came sailing 
Across the deep blue sea; 

Its sails were spun of moonlight; 

Its banners floated free; 

Its anchors were of silver, 

And burnished gold its spars; 

The lights that gleamed upon its masts 
Were bright and glorious stars. 

And Hope stood at the anchor, 

With Love beside the wheel; 

The crew were Joy and Happiness, 

And Faith rode at the keel. 

And so the baby’s ship sailed on 
Leaving the years and me; 

God speed it ever thus dear child, 
Across life’s troubled sea. 


13 


AN OCEAN LULLABY. 


C he star-fish are shining deep under the sea, 
And the little sea-urchin crawls into the sand, 
And the queer little fiddler and tiny sand flea, 

No longer are frolicking up on the land. 


Tis time that my dear little chub of a whale 
Should pillow his head on a cool rocking wave, 
And tuck up his flippers and sweet little tail 
To show how all good little whales should behave. 


For the green baby-lobsters are tucked in the mud, 

And the bad little crabs have stopped pinching the shrimp, 
And the only sea-baby that will not be good 
Is that nobody’s baby — the Bottle-Green Imp. 


14 


And he is so naughty, O dear little whale, 

That he tickles the sea-gulls and gives them bad dreams, 
Then scampers away as he chases his tail, 

And laughs in the seaweed to hear their wierd screams- 

Then hush thee my baby whale down in the deep 
Where storms cannot reach thee and safe from all fears, 
You may rest, precious whalekin, and take a sweet sleep, 
Till the sun drinks the mist and the daylight appears. 


15 


THE ISLAND OF NOD. 


C he island of Nod is a far-away land 
Which is reached by a journey at night; 

Its King is the Sandman who gives you a hand 
Whenever your ship comes in sight. 

The ship that you sail in is woven of gleams 
That trail from the wan moon afar. 

’Tis blown by a breath from the valley of dreams 
In the light of the evening star. 

At night old King Sandman holds revel and feast 
For each who arrives as his guest; 

He stands at the door for the greatest and least, 
And the welcome you get is his best. 


And when the glad morning is lighting the sky 
And people are stirring in bed, 

The Sandman just winks with his magical eye 
And drives every dream from your head. 


1 6 


KING BUMBLE-BEE. 


O ld King Bumble-Bee is making his rounds, 
And is going from flower to flower; 

You can hear him booming all over the grounds, 
And he never is idle an hour. 


In the bass-wood blossoms he drinks deep and long, 
And he next dips into the roses; 

And he keeps on dreamily singing his song 
As he creeps down into the posies. 


And when, with all of his honey-bags filled, 

He flies to his home in the forest, 

He always takes care that no drop shall be spilled, 
For his dealings are perfectly honest. 


17 


LITTLE CRAB-CHILDREN. 


C he little crab-children are a comical sight; 

They always walk sideways wherever they go, 

And throw off their skins when they shrink and grow 
tight, 

For this they must do in order to grow. 

They always are fighting, and when they get mad 
They pinch and they pull and they tear off their claws, 
And if you should see them, you’d surely be sad, 

But if you asked why they’d say,— “just because.” 

And some little children are like little crabs 
When they kick and they fight and pull out their hair, 
And when they do this, its because they’ve got “grabs,” 
And what they need most is a bit of fresh air. 


18 


A QUESTION. 


3 ust a wee kiss ’twixt the ear and the shoulder 
Where baby’s dimples invite to be bolder, 

Nestling her head in the arms of her holder, 

What, when the years go by, when she is older, 
Who will the glad one be— her head on his shoulder? 


Just a wee kiss on two eyes that are dancing; 

Wonder and joy each other enhancing; 

Laughing, they greet an old uncle’s advancing. 

What, when the years go by and a shy glancing 
Is vouchsafed to the man who has just chanced the 
asking? 


Just a wee kiss on her lips like a cherry, 

Mouth puckered up like a ripe little berry, 

With the witchery and grace of the winsomest fairy; 

What, when the years go by, when at love’s ferry, 
The toll is a kiss, and the password is— “marry? 


19 


BABY PORPOISES. 


C he dearest little babies 
Next to the baby whales, 
Are the little baby porpoises 
Who always chase their tails. 


They never kick up “rumpuses,” 
And always go to school; 

They never get the “grumpuses,” 
And never break a rule. 


Whenever they are sent to bed, 
They do just what they’re told, 
And, really, if it need be said, 
They’re just as good as gold. 


20 


CLOUD CHILDREN. 


C he little cloud children live high in the air 

Where they make all the shades and the showers; 
And when they grow weary they come to the earth, 
And visit the trees and the dowers. 


The wind is their shepherd; far up in the sky 
They linger and frolic and play; 

And all through the night in the fold of the stars 
They sleep and they dream of the day. 


When the morning awakes and creeps o’er the hills, 
And the wind pipes them out of their bed, 

The kiss of the sun on their soft little cheeks 
Makes their dimples and lips rosy red. 


21 


LILLIES IN THE GARDEN. 


I n the garden, near the wall, 
Stand the lillies fair and tall, 

And they bend and bow and sway 
In the sunshine all the day. 


With a grace so debonair 
They, like ladies wondrous fair, 
Bend and beckon through the day 
To the baby at her play. 


But when in the evening sky 
Stars peep from their home on high, 
Then the lillies in their beds 
Say good night to sleepy heads. 


22 


THE SHADOWS. 


C he leaves dance in the moonlight 
And in shadows on the lawn; 
They dance and bow 
And bend and sway 
From evening ’till the dawn. 


And when the sun has risen, 
They dance again and play, 
Across the walk 
Into my room 
Until the close of day. 


23 


THE MOTHER SEAL’S ADVICE. 


O you musn’t sit down too long on the ice, 

Or perhaps you’ll catch cold and your tail will turn white; 
Besides, you’ll get lazy and that isn’t nice, 

And you’re apt to get cross and that’s impolite.” 


“Remember your flippers whenever you dive; 

Keep them both well tucked in and your little tail straight; 
When you come up to breathe, you should slowly count five, 
This will fill both your lungs and steady your gait.” 


“Beware of the bad little Esquimaux boys 
They want you for supper, and will fry you in fat; 
They’ll come when you’re sleeping, without any noise, 
And catch you before you know what they are at.” 


“And when you are waddling about in the snow 
And a polar bear sees you and quickens his pace, 
Don’t stop to consider, for soon you will know, 

That the best thing for you is to win in the race.” 


24 


THE BABY SEA-URCHINS 


C he baby sea-urchins 

With their rough and prickly backs, 
Are always funny looking 
For their shells are full of tacks, 
Which stick into your fingers 
If, while walking on the shore 
You should stop and rashly venture 
On a peep in through their door. 


2 5 


THE FARMER’S HOUSE. 


C he farmer’s house upon the hill 
Has lots of pretty dairy-maids; 

It’s white without and clean within 
And has green doors and window-shades. 


The dairy-maids they milk the cows 
And put the milk in wooden vats; 
Then churn and churn until they get 
The round and yellow butter-pats. 


And then the farmer mounts his cart, 
And just before the town awakes 
He leaves the butter at the door 
For children who eat griddle-cakes. 


2 6 


BED PICNIC. 


W hen we children go to bed 

We take cook’s good gingerbread, 
And when Nurse puts out the light, 
Laugh at each delicious bite; 

Then with finger and with thumb 
Pick up each remaining crumb, 

Lest when Nurse returns at day, 

She should turn about and say: 

“I wonder how those mice I dread 
Got into cook’s good gingerbread.” 


*7 


THE LITTLE RAG BABY. 


C he little rag baby has gone to his bed 
In the doll’s house under the stairs, 

He’s asleep near the ark, where old Noah and his wife 
Keep the monkeys, the cows and the bears. 

The little rag baby always dreams the same dream, 
About rags and old tatters of silk, 

And he has a queer spot on the side of his nose, 

For once he fell into the milk. 


He never gets tired, or hungry, or cross, 
And always is ready to play; 

He’s very polite and most willing to hear 
Whatever the baby may say. 


And when the first rays of the daylight appear 
He blinks with his two little eyes, 

And waits for the baby to come down the stairs 
To give him a morning surprise. 


28 


THE TEETER-SNIPE. 


0 , the tiny little teeter-snipe, that whistles to the gale, 
And runs along the ocean beach and jerks his perky tail; 
He stands upon long, slender legs, as black as black can be, 
And though he’s but a little bird, he’s a baby of the sea. 


At first he runs; then stops a bit; then runs along still more; 

And is the cutest little bird that hops along the shore; 

He doesn’t mind the ocean, with its big and tumbling wave, 
For while he’s but a teeter-snipe, yet he is very brave. 


THE PEDLER. 


C ollar buttons! Collar buttons! 
For all who wish to buy— 

A paperful for ten cents— 

You’ll need them by and by, 
Everyone is genuine 
Ivory and gold, 

And if you don’t buy quickly, 

All will soon be sold!” 


“You can wear them for your shirt-studs, 
Or wear them in your sleeves; 

They’re all so very beautiful 
They cannot fail to please; 

Everyone is genuine 
Ivory and gold, 

And if you don’t buy quickly, 

All will soon be soldi” 


30 


“So, buy them for your sweetheart, 
Or buy them for your friend; 

Or buy them for your father— 

You’ll only have to spend 
Ten cents for a paperful— 

Ivory and gold — 

And if you don’t buy quickly, 

All will soon be sold.” 


“Collar buttons! Collar buttons! 

For all who wish to buy— 

A paperful for ten cents 
You’ll need them by and by!” 


THE BABY HIPPOPOTAMUS. 


0 , the baby hippopotamus, 

He really makes an awful fuss 
Whenever he is taken to the water for a bath; 

He never uses soap or suds, 

But sits and wallows in the muds, 

To see him as he blinks his eyes would really make 
you laugh. 


O, the baby hippopotamus, 

Is altogether scandalous, 

And why his mother thinks him sweet is hard to 
understand; 

For should he fall asleep and snore 
You’d hear him for a mile or more, 

For the noise he’d make, believe me, would be louder 
than the band. 


32 


COUNTERPANE COUNTRY. 


W hen Nurse has tucked me up in bed, 
And left me in the dark, 

And said, “Good night you sleepy head, 
But wake up with the lark,” 

Then with my knees I mountains make, 

All white and capped with snow,] 

And on the top I place some cake, 

Safe from each lurking foe. 


And then I play that my two hands 
Are sturdy mountaineers, 

That journey on through unknown lands, 
Past frozen fields, and meres; 

At last the mountain side they climb, 
And reach the topmost peak, 

Where they will surely find in time 
The treasure which they seek. 


33 


THE LOBSTER GHOST. 


Zj curious little lobster 
J "Went walking on the sand — 

He met another lobster 
To whom he gave his hand, 

And said: “How very strange it seems 
Up here upon the land.” 


Then came another lobster 
As red as red could be, 

Who frightened them so badly 
They scampered back to sea, 
For the other little lobsters 
Were green as green could be. 


The lobster red, a sad farewell 
Waved to the deep blue sea, 

And thus he spake unto his friends: 

“Don’t be afraid of me— 

I’m nothing but an empty shell 
And but a ghost,” said he. 


34 


“A wicked man lured me to shore 
By an outrageous plot, 

And when he got me on the beach 
He made me rather hot, 

For sad as it may be to tell 
He boiled me in a pot.” 

MORAL. 

If fate makes you a lobster, 

Be careful of your ways; 

Don’t rashly change surroundings, 
Or you may end your days 
As did this poor crustacean 
In lobster mayonnaise. 


35 


THE NIGHT-MARE. 


W hen children have been naughty, 
Taking jam when they’ve been told 
They must keep from out the pantry, 

And you hear the “Cookie” scold; 
When the pie-crust has been broken 
And likewise the jelly mould, 

You may know the night-mare’s coming 
With its terrors manifold; 


For the night-mare is a creature 
With big and staring eyes, 

And it visits little children 
Who put fingers into pies; 

It lives on bad digestions — 

On restless dreams and sighs— 

And it always laughs when people 
Scream, and wake up with “O mys!” 


36 


THE MAN IN THE MOON. 


O the man in the moon plays hide and go seek 
With the clouds that chase over the sky, 

And he winks at the stars and looks mighty meek 
Whilst he sings them a moon-lullaby. 

He kisses the water that’s going to sleep 
Until it breaks out in a smile, 

Then darts down his beam where the waterfalls leap, 
Or rests on the tree-tops awhile. 

When the baby’s asleep he creeps into its room 
To see if its well tucked in bed; 

Then chases the shadows and drives out the gloom 
And slips a dream into its head. 

He’s a funny old fellow— that man in the moon— 

He is wrinkled, and old, and quite blue, 

He’s never behind hand, nor rises too soon, 

And he’s cool as a cucumber too. 


37 


TRINITY BELLS. 


C rinity Bells! Trinity Bells! 

How sweetly their music rises and swells, 
Ringing from out the old church tower, 

Chiming all day from hour to hour 
Over the rush and the hurry of feet, 

Right at the head of the old city street, — 

The clear chimes of the bells, 

The deep tones of the bells, 

The Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Bells! 

Trinity Bells! Trinity Bells! 

How sweetly their music rises and swells, 
Now pealing forth in gay wedding marches 
For bridegroom and bride who stand under its 
arches, 

Now wildly clashing a Happy New Year, 

Bidding all people to be of good cheer; — 

The clear chimes of the bells, 

The deep tones of the bells, 

The Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Bells! 


Trinity Bells! Trinity Bells! 

How sweetly their music rises and swells, 
Singing the song of to-day and the morrow, 
Telling the tale of man’s joy and his sorrow, 
Merrily singing the day just begun, 

Solemnly tolling the day that is done, — 

The clear chimes of the bells, 

The deep tones of the bells, 

The Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Bells! 


39 


A SONG. 


0 , its heigho, marry, and a day! 

When the sun shines blithe and cheery, and the 
clouds are blown away. 

Come all ye jolly mariners who never mind a blow, 
O, its heigho, marry, and away we go. 


O, its heigho, marry, and a day! 

When all the merry lassies and the laddies are at 
play, 

When the maypole stands all garnished and they’re 
waiting in a row, 

O, its heigho, marry, and away we go. 


O, its heigho, marry, and a day! 

When the north wind pipes and whistles, and Jack 
Frost has come to stay, 

When the mistletoe and holly are trailing high and low, 
O, its heigho, marry, and away we go. 


40 


LITTLE BOY BLUE. 


0 little Boy Blue, come blow your horn 
Just once again as the sun goes down; 
Let me hear its sweet echo, clear and low, 
As I did in the days of long ago. 


For the years have gone by, O little Boy Blue, 
And like the Pied Piper you’ve stolen away — 
The dear little boy I used to know, 

In the days and years of long ago. 


And the music you’ve left, O Little Boy Blue, 
Is the sob that falls on a broken heart, 
While the tears rise up to a mother’s eyes 
As memory sings its lost lullabies. 


And weary and worn with travel and care, 
And tired and footsore we long for rest; 

But little Boy Blue, O little Boy Blue, 

If you blow your horn we will follow you. 


KING GOLDENROD. 


On alchemist bold is King Goldenrod, 
•/■Whose secrets have never been told; 
The meadows and fields at his magical nod 
Turn into fair gardens of gold. 


The hills where he raises his golden bloom 
Are bathed in a radiant light, 

And the vales where he tosses his feathery plume 
Seem to dance in a wild delight. 


Though Wizard of Autumn, his touch is like Spring, 
Giving joy to the barren plain, — 

A Monarch whose coming to earth doth bring 
The wealth of a glorious reign. 


42 


RAIN. 


R ain, rain, rain, 

On the porch and window-pane; 
The wind doth blow, 

And the time goes slow, 

Till the sun comes back again. 


Rain, rain, rain, 

On the fickle weather-vane; 

The flowers grow 
In their beds below, 

And wheat comes up on the plain. 


Rain, rain, rain, 

On the earth and deep blue main; 
The sailor knows 
When the rainbow shows 
That the sun will shine again. 


43 


BABY TADPOLE. 


0 , the tiny baby tadpole 
Has a funny little tail, 

And his home is a pool near some bog, 
Where he dives about and swims 
As if he were a whale, 

Till presently he turns into a frog; 


For soon his tail grows shorter 
And shrivels to a knob; 

Next come his feet, and then his tiny eyes 
Pop out like two bright buttons, 

And before you can say “Bob,” 

He’s a jolly little green frog catching flies. 


44 


THE THUNDER PEOPLE. 


C he clouds are the grim thunder people; 

On the wings of the storm they fly; 
They sweep round the house and the steeple, 
And darken the summer sky. 


They growl, and they roar, and they grumble, 
As lions do over their prey, 

And when they grow tired they tumble 
And wet all the meadows and hay. 


At times they are bad desperadoes— 
When hooded in terrible cloaks— 
They sweep down in mighty tornadoes 
And tear up great forests of oaks. 


The flash of their eyes is the lightning; 

The crash of the thunder, their laugh; 
Fierce people who will not stand trifling, 
Nor can they be put off with chaff. 


45 


MY DOG AND I. 


m y dog and I are staunchest friends; 

We mind not wind nor weather; 
Content with what our Maker sends 
So long as we’re together— 

My dog and I. 


We do not ask from day to day 
What chance or time may render, 

But take things as they come our way 
And thank the gracious Sender— 

My dog and I. 


In meadows, fields, by cliffs and scars 
We have our fill of pleasure, 

And underneath the silent stars 
We also find rare treasure — 

My dog and 1. 


46 


Though raging storm oft spoils the chase 
Which we have undertaken, 

Yet never is there time or place 
Where our fond love is shaken. 

My dog and I. 


And so we journey day by day 
Unheedful of the weather, 

Content with what shall come our way 
My dog and I together— 

My dog and I. 


47 


THE STARS. 


W hen the silent shadows creep 
Slowly up the garden wall, 
And the sun has gone to sleep, 
And the night spreads over all, 
Then the little stars come out 
Just to see what you’re about. 


Then they peep at you so still, 
Lighting up the darkened skies, 
Creeping up behind the hill 
Like so many fire-flies, 

That you’d never dream that they 
Were just miles and miles away. 


48 


LULLABY. 


B ush, baby hush! 

Dews upon the flowers are falling; 
Shepherds home their lambs are calling; 

Twilight shades are gently stealing 
List! the evening bells are pealing; 

Hush, baby hush! 


Sleep, baby sleep! 

Drowsy tinklings now are dying; 
Breezes of the night are sighing; 

One by one the stars are peeping; 
In their nests the birds are sleeping; 
Sleep, baby sleep! 


49 


THE ORGAN GRINDER. 


O rgan grinder, organ grinder, 
Turning, grinding all the day, 
Sometimes all your tunes are sombre, 
Then again they’re blithe and gay. 


Now your tune is “Annie Laurie;” 

Next it is some dismal strain, 
Yet we children should be sorry 
If you did not come again. 


Sometimes you are thrown a penny; 

Then perhaps you get a dime; 
Many times you don’t get any, 

Still you grind and bide your time. 


50 


Little children on the sidewalk 
Join their eager hands and dance; 
Older people stop their side-talk 
To enjoy a moment’s glance. 


And the monkey, little “Jocko,” 
Sits beside you with a grin; 

Not to give him when he begs so 
Seems to all his friends a sin. 


Organ grinder, organ grinder, 
If you cannot always play, 
Do not from us ever wander 
But come back another day. 


5i 


SUPPER TIME. 


W hen nurse brings me my bowl of milk, 
1 play I am a fisherman; 

Each tiny crumb and piece of bread 
I catch as quickly as I can. 


My net is just my silver spoon;— 
Sometimes I catch a mighty whale; 
And hungry I ne’er go to bed 
For my good luck does never fail. 


When I have taken all the fish, 

Nurse gives me some nice gingerbread, 
And when I’ve finished this I say 
“Good-night” and go up to my bed. 


If every little boy and girl 
Could catch such sweet and wholesome food 
While playing they were fishermen, 

They’d surely grow up strong and good. 


52 


THE VALLEY OF DREAMS. 


C he valley of dreams is a vale, far away, 
Where the good little children all go 
When weary of work and tired of play, 

And the breezes of night softly blow. 


And the flowers that bloom in that land of delight 
Never fade, and the birds never die; 

And the rivers and brooks ever flow in the sight 
Of a cloudless and beautiful sky. 


And the song of the birds seems the sweetest there, 
And the whispering leaves breathe a tune 
That rises and falls on the calm summer air 
And faints in the light of the moon. 


And the children who visit this valley of rest 
Never know either sorrow or pain, 

For they wander around in the paths they love best, 
Impatient to find them again. 


53 


FIRE-PEOPLE. 


W hen the night drops from the sky 
And the shades are tightly drawn, 
And the little fire-fly 
Lights his lantern on the lawn; 

Then we children round the hearth 
Watch the fire-people play— 
Wondrous people who come forth 
In their marvelous array. 


First the genie smoke doth rise, 
Wreathing up the chimney-flue, 
And his spirit upward flies, 
Followed by a flame of blue; 
Next the wood is caught and loud 
Laugh the fire-imps in glee 
As they join the merry crowd 
Which the blazing logs set free. 


54 


How they dance and jump and snap 
Like a thousand fiery dogs; 

Madly lap the hissing sap 
Oozing from the burning logs; 

And with glowing eyes they gleam 
Down where all the cinders lie, 
Leaping upward with a scream 
When as sparks they fiercely fly. 


Suddenly a rumbling sound 
Issues from the mount of coal — 

Sounds like those which wild beasts, bound, 
Make when they growl forth their dole. 
Then the mountain splits in two 
And from out the smoking rent 
A great dragon comes in view, 

Raging and on mischief bent. 


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Now the flames light up the room, 
And amidst the lurid flare, 

Castles crash and sink to doom, 
Towers topple in the glare. 

Yet next day should you but glance 
Where the fire-people play, 

You would see naught but expanse 
Of burnt ashes cold and gray. 


56 


A SUMMER SHOWER. 


I t is raining on the windows and raining on the walks; 

It is raining on the meadows and on the hollyhocks; 

It is raining on the housetops and on the public square, 
And everybody will get wet when going to the fair. 


But when the sun comes out again the rain will surely cease, 
And then the dusty streets will be as white as any fleece, 
And many pretty maids will come from all the distant towns 
Dressed in their latest bonnets and their very smartest gowns. 


57 


THE CHANGING SHADOWS. 


S ee the shadows on the wall 
Rise and fall, rise and fall, 

Making all fantastic shapes 
From gray camels to black apes; 
Then again in form defiant 
They appear like some huge giant 
Whose long arms in fitful measure 
Seem to move in search of pleasure. 


Thus we children in the bed 
Watch the shadows overhead 
As they dance and disappear 
And it seems so very queer 
That they melt into the air 
And come back most anywhere. 


58 


THE BRIDGE. 


O ver the bridge, over the bridge, 

While the waters surge below, 

Over the bridge the people march 
Each day to and fro. 

The sound of the tread of a thousand feet 
To the City’s dust and moil; 

The music which reaches the ears of men 
Is the song of the feet of toil— 

“Work, work, work, 

For each man staunch and true, 

Work, work, work, 

God gives it for man to do,” 

And many a weary foot there goes 
Over the bridge of sighs, 

But the man who works and never shirks 
Is the one that wins the prize. 


59 


Up from the earth looms the mighty bridge, 
And its towers look toward sea, 

Where the men-of-war and the merchant-ships 
Fly the flag of liberty. 

And he who passes along his way 
With awe is often mute, 

As he hears the wind through the cables sing 
Like the song of a mighty lute — 

“Strive, strive, strive, 

Press forward with the day, 

Strive, strive, strive, 

Let naught your heart dismay.” 

While many a one has crossed the bridge 
And many have lost their way, 

That one alone can win the goal 
Who marches whilst he may. 


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Bold is the leap of the mighty bridge 
To the freedom of space and sky, 

And its arches ring with the tramp of feet 
Incessantly passing by; 

While here beneath the silent stars 
When the winds on the cables play, 
This is the song which is borne along, 
And this is what they say:— 

“Rest, rest, rest, 

For the toilers quest is through, 

Rest, rest, rest, 

For each man good and true.” 

Though many a weary heart goes there 
Over the bridge in quest, 

Yet peace will come to all at last 
And to each toiler rest. 


61 


THE WIND. 


0 , wind that sings and sighs and wails 
High up amongst the eaves; 

O, fickle wind, now sad, now gay, 

That whispers to the leaves. 


At times you creep along the grass 
To seek the daffodils, 

And then again you run away 
And blow across the hills. 


You do not seem to have a home, 
But live just anywhere, 

And when upon a frolic bent 
You toss about my hair. 


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But sometimes you act very bad, 
And shriek and moan and shout, 
Until we children scarcely know, 
Mad wind what you’re about. 


You blow in mighty hurricanes 
That sink great ships at sea, 
O, wicked wind, this really is 
As cruel as can be. 


63 


OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY. 


O ver the hills and far away!” 

From the years without guile or art 
Comes the call again 
Of the old refrain 

Which once spoke to our eager heart— 


“Over the hills and far away,” 
Far away over the hills. 


“Over the hills and far away” 

Have passed all our childhood’s fears, 
Our laughter and mirth, 

And the blossoms of earth, 

And we gaze through the vista of years 
“Over the hills and far away,” 

Far away over the hills. 


64 


“Over the hills and far away” 

Live the dreams of forgotten days, 

And their glories rise 
To our wearied eyes 
As we search through life’s tangled maze, 
“Over the hills and far away,” 

Far away over the hills. 


“Over the hills and far away” 

In the light of the setting sun, 
Fond memory sings 
Of departed things 
As the stars proclaim day is done, 
“Over the hills and far away,” 
Far away over the hills. 


65 


LULLABY. 


C he moon riseth clear o’er the sleeping town 
And each bird is asleep in its nest, 

And the river is singing its old lullaby 
And the light has died out in the West. 
Then hush thee my darling 
Content in my arms, 

Nestle close to thy mother’s breast; 

For the dear God above 
Who loveth us all 

Will guard my sweet little ones rest. 


The Shepherds have taken their lambs to the fold 
And the stars twinkle deep in the sky, 

And all voices are still and each broken wing soothed, 
And all sorrow and pain has gone by. 

Then hush thee my darling 
Content in my arms, 

Nestle close to thy mother’s breast; 

For the dear God above 
Who loveth us all 

Will guard my sweet little ones rest. 


L.cfC. 


66 


THE SANDMAN. 


0 , the Island of Nod 
And the valley of dreams 
Lie hid in the ocean of sleep, 
And the Sandman’s the pilot 
Who comes every night 
To ferry you over the deep. 


His call is so gentle 
That you never know when 
He comes with his magical sand; 

For each tiny grain 
That he drops in your eye 
Is a dream from the “hush-a-bye” land. 


At his touch all the cares 
And the sorrows of day 
Depart on the wings of the night, 
And before you’re aware 
You float down on a dream 
To the valleys and dales of delight. 
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AFTERMATH. 


6 rey sea and wild waste 
And a songless sky; 

Wind through the leafless trees; 
Alone my heart and I. 


Lad’s heart that once was mine, 
Now lost for aye; 

Throw back an echo still 
Years long passed by. 


What lingers sad and lone 
Wrapped in the gloom? 
Man’s heart O lad o’ mine 
Dreary as doom. 


Songless the leafless trees; 

Songless the sky; 
Songless the heart of me; 
Lad gone for aye. 


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MJG & 1903 







LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


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